


Swiftly

by madamezuzu



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6823633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamezuzu/pseuds/madamezuzu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles sits down for an interview about his latest album after a twelve year absence in the music industry, after remaining silent for nineteen years. He's finally ready to say all the things he's never said.</p><p>Each track off the album tells a different story that happened between Taylor and Harry over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“You’re a classic example of a fairy tale career. You started on a reality talent competition and went on to be one fifth of the most financially successful boy band of all time. When your band broke up, your solo efforts exceeded any band member turned solo artist, surpassing the likes of Paul McCartney, Beyonce, and Justin Timberlake. You took a break from music, tried your hand at acting, and went on to be an Academy Award nominated actor and Golden Globe winner. Now, at the cusp of turning forty, you’re coming back to your roots in music. Why?” 

He looks at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “I thought it was time I right some of my past mistakes.” 

Taken aback, I let out a nervous chuckle, “No one can look at your career on paper and find many mistakes.” 

“There’s plenty.” There’s a sadness in his voice that I’m not entirely sure he’s aware he’s revealing to me. I move on.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to read you some quotes from other members in your profession and get your thoughts on them?” 

He nods his head, “Please. By all means.”

The heat rises to my cheeks, I’m not entirely sure I can pull this off. I shuffle the sheets of paper in front of me, pretending to look for the quotes. I’ve had this part of my interview memorized for days now, trying to figure out the best way to slip this in. 

“Harry Styles is a performer you have to see live. The way he covers space is insane — imagine if Mick Jagger had the warm and benign heart of Paul McCartney, cast under a magic spell by Stevie Nicks, and you're about halfway there.”

I look up at him waiting for his response, he laughs, “I was twenty-one years old when that was written. I don’t think I’ll have half that energy when I go on tour with this album.” 

I smile at him, my nervousness fading with his admission of humility. I continue. 

“You always kind of have that person, that one person who you feel might interrupt your wedding, and be like, “Don’t do it because we’re not over yet.” I think everyone has that one person who kind of floats in and out of their life. Like, the narrative is never truly over.” 

He stares at me with an unreadable expression, saying nothing. Uncomfortably, I wait. After I beat, I decide to continue, pushing my luck. 

“You’re the inspiration, muse, behind one of pop music’s greatest album. Yet, you’ve never spoken publicly in response to it. Why?”

He adjusts his seat and rests his hands on the table, clasped together, still silent. I continue. The jeweled ring on his index finger catches the light. 

“Look, it’s no secret who Taylor Swift is talking about here. I mean, your last name is the most popular track off the album. The one track she refused to promote—”

“It’s not true,” he cuts me off.

His response catches me off guard. I’m used to people deflecting my questions, denying stories, but for some reason I wasn’t expecting him to do so with something so obvious. It’s takes a lot of gall to deny a song titled with his last name isn’t about him. 

“Uh. Right. Er. Sorry.” I take a sip of my water, feeling lame. I shuffle my papers and check the tape recorder resting on the table. _Start over_ , I scream at myself. _Fix it_. I take a deep breath and begin again.

“So, Mr. Styles, this is your third studio album. First in twelve years. What can your fans expect to see—”

He cuts me off again, “You misunderstood me. It isn’t true, because I didn’t interrupt her wedding day to tell her that.”

I freeze, staring at him, pleading inwardly for him to continue. He remains quiet, his gazed fixed somewhere over my shoulder. Thinking I’m missing something, I slowly turn my head. He’s watching a busboy reset the table behind us. I clear my throat, looking back at him. 

Helplessly, I find my voice tumbling out of my mouth with little control, “So when did you tell her?” It was a stupid question, one I know he won’t answer, but I can’t help my curiosity.

He smiles and I finally see what everyone saw in him all those years ago. What she must have seen in him. The boyish charm, the crooked smile adds character to his looks, brings his beauty down to an attainable level. He’s approachable. Suddenly I find myself wanting to impress him, for him to find me smart and amusing. His smile brings out the wrinkles in his eyes, deepens the grooves of his laugh lines. The years have not been kind to him. When you’ve been partying since the age of 16, enduring rigorous touring and filming schedules, the extensive overuse of your body starts to show before the early age of thirty-nine. 

He ignores my question, “She said that, um, coming up on nineteen years ago. She and I have been through a lot since then,” he states it so simply. As if this is knowledge that everyone is privy to.

I do the math in my head, nineteen years ago; she had just started dating her now ex-husband. His band was on the brink of breaking up, taking a hiatus they would never return from. She had just released—

“Do you like her album?” He asks, changing the subject and shaking me from my thoughts. I can't keep track of the conversation. He's jumping around too much, confusing me, preventing me from not only getting the answers I want, but from even asking the questions.

The clatter of the dishes being cleared at the next table rouse me. My mind flies back at the question. I force myself to regain focus. Taylor Swift. One of music's most celebrated artists. She has a prolific career, releasing an album every two or three years since the age of sixteen. Nothing has stopped her schedule, not her wedding, two children, her divorce. He could be talking about any one of her ten albums. But I know he’s only asking about one. 

I nod my head and reply, “It’s my favorite.” It’s not a lie.

“Mine too.” He takes a sip from his glass of water. I feel the need to fill the silence. I start to ramble, losing any sense of composure I had. His candidness has thrown me. 

“I was only nine when it came out. I didn’t really realize what it all meant, how much she loved—.” I pause, cutting myself off before I assume too much. “It wasn’t until my junior year of college that I really understood the kind of love she was singing about.” 

He nods his head, his expression unreadable. 

“Did you ever tell her how you felt?” I already tried asking the question once. I’m pushing too much, the rumors have been buried for so long, it feels wrong to dig them up almost two decades later. I'm unsure if he'll evade my question a second time.

His eyes meet mine, green, flashing, “Yes.”

I nod my head curtly, thrown by his words. I ruffle through my notes again, a habit when I’m nervous. The story is about his new album, finally returning to music after a twelve year absence, not some teenage romance from a lifetime ago. My focus falters; I have to know the rest of the story. Looking away from my notes, I go off book.

“You’ve never spoken publicly about your relationship with her. Aside from a few pictures at the Bronx Zoo, backstage at a concert, there is little evidence to say that it even existed.”

He pulls pushes aside the collar of his button-up to reveal a tattoo of half a broken heart on his left pectoral, just above his heart. “She has the other half.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Literally,” he takes a beat. “We should probably discuss my new album, yeah?”

I shake my head, silently cursing myself for being taken by my own personal interest in his love life, “Of course, of course. What can you say about the new album?”

“It’s my most personal album yet.”

I’m not concentrating, my questions are stale, I’m distracted by his words from seconds ago, “And what would you say is the most personal song on the album?”

He hesitates briefly, and smiles, “Swiftly.”

I freeze, having to force myself to continue the line of questions, “And what is that track about?”

“The same thing Taylor Swift’s ‘Style’ is about. A love that floats in and out of your life because the narrative is never really over.”

Harry looks at me from across the table. I’ve been frozen for approximately forty-five seconds and I have no idea how to continue. His green eyes have a hint of mischief in them, and he is grinning madly. All the pieces fall into place.

“You never said you were off the record,” I croak.

“I didn’t,” he agrees.

“You wanted to talk about Taylor this whole time.”

“I did,” he smiles.

I nod my head, trying to gain control over the interview. I feel foolish for playing into his hand, for thinking I had managed to get him to talk about the biggest female musician of the 21st century after twenty years of silence. I take a deep breath and try to steady my pulse as I watch Harry flick his curly, graying, chestnut locks out of his eyes.

“I can tell from the look on your face that I’ve taken you by surprise. That wasn’t my intention. But I might have been too selfish to consider how this would have come off to a reporter.”

I nod, agreeing with him. Where was that humility he had worked me over with at the start of our conversation? Looking at him from across the table, his boyish charm is gone. Now what stands before me is a man who has been in the industry for his entire adolescent and adult life. A man who should know by now how to get what he wants out of the media. He’s confident, assure of himself. I’ve become his latest victim in a string of reporters who have been played by his expertise in the media. 

“When I was nineteen years old, I was given the best advice of my career: keep your mouth shut. And that was exactly what I did. What I have done,” he takes another sip of his water.

“But frankly, I’m quite sick of it. When you don’t say anything, everyone has a story to say about you, their own version of how events went in your life. This album is me finally getting to comment on everything that I’ve been through the past twenty years. Everything I’ve wanted to say, but couldn’t—”

“But you’ve released personal albums before, how could this be any different from that?” I ask, genuinely curious. 

“What I love about 1989 is that it’s like listening to a scrapbook. I can turn on any of those tracks and know exactly where I was, where she was. How my actions made me feel, more importantly how they made her feel. It’s almost better than any photograph I’ve taken with her.” 

The hair stands on the back of my neck, his romanticism only adds to the poetry of his ideal.

“But when I listen to any of my songs, I only know a feeling, and with time, and the further it takes me from her, it starts becoming harder for me to recall them. I wanted to change that. I wanted to put my memories of her out there, before I lost sight of them completely.”

“What songs on your previous records were about her?” I ask, everyone has their guesses, but when a man has dated as many women Harry Styles has over the years, it’s hard to be certain who his songs are about, if they’re even about anyone.

He places his hands on the table, and twirls the ring on his middle finger around, “To be completely honest, I’m not sure anyone one song is about her. It’s no secret I wasn’t the most monogamous person in my youth. I think most of my old songs are about the all women from that time in my life, Taylor included.”

I nodded my head in understanding, working a way to get a more descriptive, deliberate answer, “Women like Kendall Jenner-Jonas?”

He smiles at me, awareness gleams in his green eyes, “You know I’m better at this than you are right?”

I feel myself blush. I watch him take a sip of his water, “Trust me, when you’ve been doing this as long as I have with half as many secrets as I do, you learn to be better than the reporter you’re talking to. Especially one that’s on her first cover story”

The heat rushes to my cheeks and I clear my throat, “I only meant—”

He places his hand on top of mine, a soothing gesture. I feel my heartbeat slow.

“I know what you meant, and it was a good angle. To answer your question, yes, Kendall was a woman that my songs were influenced by. She’s a dear friend and I count myself lucky to have have her still in my life after all these years. But that’s not where your story is.”

I swallow hard, he’s right. Harry’s candidness has completely thrown me off my well-conceived plan for this interview. I’m fumbling for answers and sound bytes that are only deterring me from the real story. I bring my eyes back to him. I watch as he tucks a short curl behind his ear. I hear him breathe out as he pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time.

“How about this,” he says, bending down to the bag at the foot of our table, “I have here a copy of my album, ‘1994.’” I choke on my spit. Could he be that bold as to give the album a direct link to Taylor?

“It’s a working title,” he assures me, the dimples in his smile make his words far more impish than I’m sure he intends. But, then again, I’ve just learned not to underestimate him. He’s far quicker than he lets anyone realize. 

“I want you to take a listen to this, and then we’ll pick this up again. I’m sure you’ll want a day or two to regroup your questions, now that you know what my intentions are with this interview.”

He pushes the flash drive towards me on the table, I place my hand over it, “Are you sure that you want to go this route? Have you thought about the repercussions? Taylor isn’t exactly the same open woman she was in her twenties.”

Only after the words tumble out of my mouth do I realize I’m self-sabotaging. What is it about this story that is making me fall apart and forget every ounce of my training? Harry smiles and stands from the booth, adjusting his jacket then grabbing the bag at his feet.

“This is how you get the girl.”

I feel myself gape at him, completely dumbfounded. He smiles over his shoulder as he walks out of the restaurant.


	2. Track 1: What Do You Want Me to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story behind the first track on Harry's album. Harry finds out through Twitter that Taylor has just gotten engaged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who read the first chapter! Now's when we actually see what has happened between Taylor and Harry through the years, and what is inspiring his new album. Let me know what you think! :)

Harry opened his Twitter notifications; people were tagging him in one of Taylor’s pictures again. More than they usually do. Sighing, he flicked through the tags and opened the original post. His felt his heartbeat quicken. It was a picture of Taylor hugging Calvin with his back to the camera, a smile on her face and a diamond ring on her finger. A big one. 

**@taylorswift13** _I can’t wait to be Mrs. Adam Wiles!_

Harry enlarged the image and zoomed in on Taylor’s left hand. It had to be at least 8 karats. He clicked on her handle and opened her feed. It was retweets full of congratulations from her friends: Karlie, Selena, Gigi, Jamie, Ellie; the list seemed endless. He stopped short seeing a familiar blonde’s icon. 

**@niallofficial** _congrats u crazy lovebirds ! cant wait for that wedding ._

Harry sighed again, closing the app and tucking his phone back into his pocket. Taylor wasn’t the first woman he had dated to get engaged, and she certainly would not be the last. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of jealousy struck him. The emotion would show itself sometimes, during the big things: award shows, late night interviews, release parties. Taylor and Calvin had managed to keep their relationship far more private than he, or anyone else, intended. So, when she popped up on the red carpet, Calvin draped on her arm, or she laughed through an interview detailing a story about him, it affected Harry more than he’d care to admit. 

Fighting his better judgment, Harry pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his messages. 

_Are you trying to get an invite to the wedding with that tweet ?_

He pressed send and waited for the three dots to appear at the bottom of the message. 

_if i do u can be my date ;)_

Harry rolled his eyes. Another message came through.

_u doin ok ?_

Harry’s fingers began typing before he could even formulate a complete thought. 

_Yeah, fine. Happy for her. He’s a good guy._

He knew Niall wouldn’t believe him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. 

_whatever u say mate ._

Harry frowned at the response and pulled up a new message. He typed in her name and stared at the blinking cursor. There were a million options for how he should respond to this. The possibilities overwhelmed him. He closed his messages and opened up Instagram, went to her page and clicked on the engagement post. 1.3 million likes already. It had only been two hours since she posted the picture. 

**taylorswift** _I can’t wait to be Mrs. Adam Wiles!_

He scrolled through some of the comments. Through all the exclamations of excitement and emojis, he’d see the occasional #kaylorisreal or #riphaylor. He smiled, it wasn’t often he enjoyed the relationship spam, but the presence of their joined tag comforted him in a very weird way.

He clicked on the hashtag and was flooded with pictures of him, years younger, beanie on his head, paper airplane hanging from his neck. He exited the tag, it probably wasn’t worth it to spend too much time dwelling on the pictures. Confronting nostalgia head on would not prove helpful to his inevitable response.

Later that night, Harry lay in bed, staring at his message cursor. He had typed what seemed like a thousand messages, all of them deleted. There wasn’t anything he could say that would convey how he was feeling, continually changing by the hour, but he knew he had to say something. He wasn’t even sure if she still had his number. He opened up Twitter and began to write a direct message. He knew that despite the weird feelings of jealousy that clouded his brain, taking the higher road would be the most mature option, the better option.

_Happy for you. -H_

His finger hovered over the send button before he finally pressed it. He put his phone on his nightstand, then rubbed his eyes. Why was this such a big deal to him? He and Taylor hadn’t spoken in several months, and last saw each other even longer ago. There had been no formal declarations of love between the two, their relationship confined mostly to stolen moments in shadow. After their very public break up and her very public relationship with Calvin starting, they were advised to keep whatever interaction they had private. Harry chose to keep all his encounters with Taylor to himself, but he was sure Taylor had told at least one of her girlfriends. The arrangement worked for them; they caused too much drama and speculation with all eyes on them. It was a smart decision for them to stay out of the public eye. 

Harry heard his phone vibrate against the glass of his nightstand. He pulled the phone into view.

**_Taylor Swift_ **  
_iMessage_

Swallowing hard, he swiped the message open. He hadn’t expected her to reach out to him, his earlier direct message not really warranting a response. 

_A DM? Really Styles?_

He smiled at her words.

_Thought you’d have lost my number by now._

The three dots danced across the screen. 

_I’ve tried to. It always seems to find its way back into my phone._

His ears began to prick and heat rushed to his cheeks. Her admission made him want to throw the conversation back at her. 

_Surprised you’re able to hold your hand up to type, there’s an enormous rock weighing it down now._

He watched as the three dots appeared on the screen for a few seconds, then disappear. He waited, hoping for a delayed send. After a beat his mouth began to go dry. The screen on his phone went black. He knew she wouldn’t respond. The sharp retort wasn’t sticking to the mature route he had started on. Closing his eyes, he groped for the edge of the table to return his phone to the surface.

He lay in the dark for what felt like hours, but was in fact only minutes, his eyes closed but nowhere near sleep. He heard his phone vibrate. Rolling over to his side and perching himself up on one elbow he unlocked his phone to read the message. 

_You awake?_

His fingers moved over the keyboard quickly. She hadn’t texted him like this in very long time. 

_Yeah._

His phone started to vibrate from an unknown number. He accepted the call and placed the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” his voice was rough and scratchy from hours of silence. 

“It’s me,” Taylor whispered. 

“What time is it there?” He asked. Judging by her earlier picture’s location, she wasn’t in LA. 

“I’m 3 hours ahead of you,” she replied.

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. It was 3:37AM wherever she was, a tropical location out east.

“It’s a little late for a phone call don’t you think?” 

Her response was quick, “Adam’s asleep.”

He paused, weighing her words, after a moment he responded, “Why are you calling me when Adam’s asleep?” 

He could hear her breathe into the receiver on the other end of the line, “I guess I wanted to hear your voice.”

He sighed, and lifted himself up off his elbow, “You got engaged today Taylor.”

“I got engaged today Harry,” her voice rather melancholy for a woman with a brand new diamond on her ring finger. 

Neither of them said a word for a moment, the only noise filling the line was the sound of their breathing. Slow and steady. His mind began to flow with memories of previous conversations held in the dead of night, finding comfort in a silent phone line, using each other’s breathing for company. Often times he’d wake up in the morning to the phone line still connected, neither having hung up through the night. 

“I am happy for you. Adam’s a good guy,” he breathed.

“I knew you’d say that,” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m not sure what else to say. I’m sure I shouldn’t be saying anything really.”

“I’m doing the one thing you shouldn’t be doing the night you get engaged,” she confessed. Her voice was light, delicate, wistful.

Harry swallowed, “Taylor, why did you call me?”

“I said I wanted to hear your voice.”

Harry rubbed his eyes with his free hand and exhaled, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t know either. I guess I just wanted you to say anything, as long as it was you saying it,” she paused. “I gotta go,” she added quickly.

“Get some sleep,” Harry said.

Three beeps rang in his ear, she ended the call. He hit the lock button on his phone and dropped it to his chest as he lay back down on his bed. What the hell was he doing? There was no point in saying anything to her. They knew that nothing good came from talking to each other. Yet, somehow, there were moments like this, of weakness. Moments that Harry tried not to let happen, but was powerless to stop. They could go on for months without speaking or seeing one another, but the moment they did, all the emotions, all the history, came right to the surface. Try as hard as he might to push her from his mind, she would always be there, waiting for him to come back. He imagined it was the same thing for her. He hoped it was the same thing for her. 

“Fuck it,” Harry unlocked his phone and opened a new message.

_If you get invited to that wedding you better make me your plus one and not some girl._

His phone vibrated in his hand. He was surprised Niall was already up in the UK. 

_theres the reaction I was waitin for . dont worry , all the girls i could take are probably gonna be bridesmaids . knew u werent handling the news well_

Harry knew he wasn’t that obvious.


	3. Track 2: Blue Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Taylor attend the 2013 VMAs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH YAY. My goal is to take a few moments we've seen between Harry and Taylor with no explanations and give them a back story. This is my version of what happened the night of the 2013 VMAs. A lot of wishful thinking. :)

“You want this orange? I grabbed it backstage and don’ know what to do with it,” Niall said, offering Harry a clementine. 

Harry looked down at Niall’s outstretched hand, “But I already grabbed one for myself.” 

Harry produced his own clementine out of his blazer pocket. Niall pulled Harry’s free pocket open and dropped the fruit inside.

“Now ya’ve got two,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“You could have just eaten it Niall,” Harry grumbled. 

“Nah, didn’ want ta get my fingers sticky,” he replied.

“You don’ usually have a problem with that Niall,” Louis chimed in next to him. 

After tucking both clementines under his seat, Harry heard Louis smack Niall in the arm. He directed his gaze towards him two seats down. Louis kept his gaze rooted in front of them. 

“What’re you staring at?” Harry asked.

“Nothin’, just watchin’ them change the set is all,” Louis replied, scratching his ear.

Harry looked at Niall, “Niall, why did Louis smack you?”

Niall’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink before he stammered out, “’dunno. He’s the only one allowed ta drink. Maybe he’s hammered.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, “You’re lying. You know you’re shit at it.”

Louis snickered, “Ya hear that Niall? You’re a shit liar.”

Harry looked closer at Louis and followed his gaze down a few rows in front of them and to the left. A familiar, tall, leggy, blonde in a floor length gown was standing talking to a bloke who looked eerily like him.

“When she’d get here?” Harry asked, looking back at his friends.

Niall cleared his throat, “’bout the same time that Louis smacked me arm.” 

“She really did manage to find a guy that looks just like you for that video. Looks even more like you in person,” Louis said, his eyes squinting down at Taylor. 

“Shut up. That’s not meant to be me in the video,” Harry groaned.  
“Sure sure, whatever ya say. He only looks like ya, and dresses like ya, got tattoos like ya. Definitely just a coincidence,” Niall said, nodding his head. 

“Honestly Harold, I don’t see why you’re defending her, after the shit she put you through because of that holiday,” Louis said, taking a sip from the beer he had tucked under his seat. 

“Well, I was a bit of a jackass to her,” Harry admitted. 

“She started it by making that video while you were seeing her. I’d say you were right to be a bit miffed,” Louis replied after swallowing a sip of his beer. 

The lights dimmed inside Barclay’s Center, and Harry took the opportunity to pull out his phone. His eyes flicked up briefly to Lady Gaga’s face on the jumbotron hanging above him. Settling his gaze back on his phone, he pulled up his messages.

_Nice dress._

He waited a few minutes to see if she’d respond when he felt Niall lean in onto his shoulder.

“Who’re ya textin’?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Harry shrugged him off, “None of your business, bugger off.” 

Niall chuckled, “So Taylor then. Can ya have her put in a good word for me with Selena while ya’re at it?”

Harry elbowed him in the ribs, “No.”

He looked down at his phone. Still no response from her. He opened up the thread and began typing another message. 

_I know exactly who your date played in the video._

Harry regretted the text immediately after hitting send. He knew assuming he was the subject of her video was the kind of move she wanted him to make. It made him the narcissist he was sure she thought he was. Louis was right though, that guy did bear an uncanny resemblance to him. And, given their history, it wasn’t hard to see Taylor’s intentions with the casting. She was very good at her job. She knew how to generate buzz. The hours they had spent talking late at night, he learned a thing or two from her about navigating through Hollywood and how to control the story before someone else did. 

Harry looked down at his phone once more, still no response. 

 

The show had passed in a very confusing and sober blur. Between the latex and seashell bikinis, dancing teddy bears, and being booed off stage by the nosebleed section, Harry was exhausted. He kicked the orange peels at his feet towards the back of Rihanna’s seat. 

“What’re ya doin’ that for? She could notice,” Niall gritted through his teeth, centimeters from Harry’s ear. 

Harry shrugged Niall off him again, for what seemed like the thousandth time in the night. The other lads were having a good time, Louis and Liam especially, but Harry couldn’t get in the mood. While he was in the loo, Taylor and Selena had ended up in front of the lads during the seating shuffles. Apparently, the boys, mostly Niall, had been so obnoxious Taylor turned around to yell at them, which only served to egg Niall on more. He gave Harry a complete rundown of the events when he returned; Selena and Taylor fortunately back in their original assigned seats. 

“Got Selena’s number after we got offstage. She’s a proper cutie,” Niall said, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. 

“Surprised you got it considering her best friend told you off earlier,” Louis sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“We all know Selena likes doin’ things her friend doesn’t approve of,” Niall said, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Yeah, and look how that ended for the last guy,” Louis quipped.

The lights dimmed again and Harry watched Pharrell and Daft Punk walk onto the stage. As they began to read from the teleprompter, Harry felt his stomach drop. They were announcing Taylor’s category. There’s no way that she’d be here if she wasn’t collecting a trophy. There were so many things she could say on that stage. Many things she could say about him. Taylor had a reputation of using this show to further her image.

“All right Harold, see that camera coming up here? Make sure to smile,” Louis said, reaching behind Niall to pat his shoulder.

“She’s not going to say anything,” Niall said as he tucked his phone into his jacket pocket. 

“Fifty quid. She’s going to say something. I dunno what, but she’s gonna make sure Harry’s the shot the cameras take as she gets off the stage,” Louis sneered. 

Niall stuck out his hand in agreement, “Ya’re on. She’s too proper of a girl to say something like that.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “She knows exactly how to handle herself Niall. She’s not as innocent as she let’s on.”

Louis smacked Niall’s thigh, “See Niall? She’d have to have a mysterious side for Harry to pay any attention to her.”

“Mysterious or not, I just don’t think she’d do anything like that on national television,” Niall crossed his arms.

“We just watched Miley grind up on Robin Thicke, I’m pretty sure all bets are off tonight,” Liam said, leaning over Louis to speak to Niall.

Harry hadn’t even heard them announce Taylor’s name, the dramatic bass line of “I Knew You Were Trouble” brought his gaze back down to Taylor. She hugged Selena, hugged that guy she was with, and made her way to the stage. He felt his palms begin to sweat. She did look amazing in that dress.

“Hi! Thank you!” She said to Pharrell as he passed the silver moonman to her, “I’m such a huge fan of yours!”

Taylor turned and faced the camera, “Um, you know. I want to thank the fans because this is-- I tweeted about this, a lot.” She laughed, looking down at the moonman in her arms.

Harry’s eyes were locked on her, she seemed confident, sure of herself. Prepared. He suddenly became painfully aware of the cameraman perched in the isle, his camera pointed directly at Harry and his bandmates. 

“I really really wanted this and thank you so much for doing this for me. Um. I feel really lucky ‘cuz I have both the video director Anthony Mandler and my co-star, Reeve Carney here tonight. And I’m so happy that they’re here. Um. And this is just awesome! I also want to thank the person who inspired this song, who knows **exactly** who he is. Beacause, now I got one of these. Thank you so much!”

She lifted the microphone in the air and the applause began. Harry’s eyes flicked up to the jumbotron as he clapped to see who the camera had panned to. He wasn’t surprised to see him and the lads projected to the audience.

“Well, I guess I should have seen that coming,” Niall said, leaning into Louis.

Louis gave a tight smile and nod, “Yeah.” He took a breath then added, “Well.”

Harry looked at the cameraman through his lense, still clapping, plastering his best knowing look on his face. Taylor’s emphasis on “exactly” had not gone unnoticed. She was calling him out, and he was damned if he wouldn’t give her a show. 

As the applause died down and the cameraman moved away, Harry noticed Selena make her way up the stairs towards them. He leaned in towards Niall, who was handing money over to Louis.

“Niall, you might want to put your money away. Selena’s coming over,” he whispered, probably not as subtly as intended. 

Niall’s head shot up, “Selena!”

She stopped at the end of the row, next to Harry. Niall was immediately on his feet to greet her. He nervously scratched the back of his neck and smiled at her.

“What’re ya doin’ up here?” He asked sheepishly.

Selena tucked her shiny black hair behind her ear, “I just wanted to see if you guys would be at Ed’s after this?” 

She smiled down at Harry, who started back up at her, dumbfounded.

“Ed’s?” He asked. 

“Ed! Yes, yeah, we’ll be there. He mentioned somethin’ ta me earlier, I completely forgot about it. One too many beers,” Niall said, laughing nervously.

Harry looked over at him, “He did? Why didn’t he say anything to me?”

Louis peeked around from the back of Niall, making direct eye contact with Harry, “Yeah, he mentioned something to me too.”

Selena smiled, picking up the ends of her dress, “Great! We’ll see you all there then! See you later.” 

The lads watched her turn around and head back to her seat. When she was out of ear shot Niall glared down at Harry.

“Are you purposely trying to wreck my chances with her?” He sat back down and crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry shrugged, “I was just wondering why Ed didn’t say anything to me about it.”

Niall groaned, “He didn’ say anything to any of us. But I couldn’t let her know that.”

Niall pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his contacts, “Gotta get Ed to tell us where the party is.”

Harry put his hand over Niall’s phone, “He probably didn’t invite us for a reason.”

Niall moved his phone out of Harry’s reach, “Nah, it probably just slipped his mind or somethin’. We’re going ta that party.”

Louis leaned over, “Who’s the ‘we’ Selena was talking about though?”

Harry felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at lock screen.

_**Taylor Swift** _  
_iMessage_

_It’s Herve Leger by Max Azria._

His phone vibrated in his hand with a second message.

_See you later._

Harry sighed as he locked his phone, “‘We’ means Selena and Taylor.”

Louis groaned loudly on the other side of Niall, “Of course it does. How stupid are we?”

Niall let out an excited yell, “Got it! Ed’s just texted me the address, says he’s sorry that he didn’t invite us earlier. He thought we wouldn’t want to come.”

Harry looked over Niall’s shoulder as he read the text, “He didn’t think **we** wouldn’t want to come. He didn’t think **Taylor** would want us to.”

Niall sighed in revelation, “Ohhh. She really does know what she’s doin’, doesn’t she?”

 

Later that evening Harry found himself sitting on the couch with Liam. He was still in a fuss about the comments that Taylor had made, and it seemed he kept finding more ways to be annoyed on behalf of Harry.

“Her comments we not needed, Harry. You were just sitting there minding your own business. It’s not like she didn’t have an equal hand in your break up,” he huffed.

Harry tried to listen, but after a few drinks Harry was having trouble focusing on the words Liam was saying. That’s when he finally noticed Taylor standing at the bar, a glass of clear liquid in her hand. She was still wearing the dress she had worn to the awards show, which Harry knew was a bad sign. He was sure that dress would eventually cloud his judgment, starting right now.

“Uh. Liam, I’ve gotta go get another drink,” Harry said, unable to take his eyes off of Taylor.

Liam looked at the glass in Harry’s hand, “But it’s still half full.”

Harry stood up, “That’s a matter of perspective; I see it half empty.”

He walked away from Liam and meandered to the bar, pulling up next to Taylor. He let the side of his arm gently graze hers. He flagged the bartender with a wave of his glass, signaling another. He allowed their arms to touch for a second longer before leaning into her, his lips inches from her ear. 

“It really is a killer dress,” he drawled.

Taylor didn’t respond, she continued to stare straight ahead of her, sipping through the straw in her drink. The bartender returned with Harry’s drink and handed it to him. Harry turned around, his back leaning up against the bar. He pretended to gaze around the room, but could only focus on his right arm still flush against Taylor’s. She made no move to pull away. The music in the room blared around them, but the only sound Harry could focus on was the sound of Taylor’s breath. 

“You’re welcome by the way,” Harry finally said after a few moments.

Taylor turned her head to look at him, keeping her body closed off to the bar, “For what exactly?” 

Harry grinned at the room, his head tilting to the right to lean in closer to her, “For the moonman.”

He saw Taylor’s breath hitch in the corner of his eye, she opened her mouth to respond, but turned her head away instead.

“What are you doing over here Harry?” She whispered, looking down at the glass in her hands.

He turned to face her, “I wanted to hear your voice.”

She twirled the straw around in her drink, “Harry…”

Harry turned to face her, leaning his elbow on the bar, “It’s been months since we spoke last.”

She smiled sadly, “And for a good reason.”

He placed his hand over hers, stilling her movements, “Can we go somewhere and talk? I think there’s a balcony or something.”

She finally turned to face him, “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Harry ran his free hand through his hair, “Taylor, please.” It wasn’t a question.

He watched her blue eyes search his face, for what he wasn’t sure. She took a deep breath, “Okay.”

Harry knocked his knuckles against the bar top in excitement and grabbed her hand. He held it closely behind him as she followed, making sure not to draw attention to the two of them as he led her from the room. Just as he turned to round a corner, he heard his name shouted from behind him. 

“Hazza! Taylor! Come here for a picture right quick!” 

Harry stopped his movements and felt Taylor squeeze his hand, “It’s Ed. We can’t ignore him.” She whispered. 

Harry glanced at Ed over his shoulder and plastered a grin on his face, “Ed!! Of course!”

He dropped Taylor’s hand and began walking towards their red-headed friend. He looked over his shoulder to see if Taylor was following. Her cheeks were red with what he could only imagine was embarrassment, but she was close behind him. 

He draped his arm over Ed’s shoulders as Taylor was pulled in by a guy he hadn’t seen before. Though two people separated them, he could still feel the warmth that spread through his body as he held on to Taylor’s hand. 

The flash of the phone went off and Harry patted Ed’s shoulders, “Right, well, Taylor was just showing me where the loo was, we’ll be right back.”

Harry pushed past Ed and the stranger and grabbed on to Taylor’s hand again, pulling her more quickly from the room this time. He couldn’t afford to have anyone else see them exit. 

“You’re going to pull my arm out of its socket,” Taylor quipped behind him.

“Oh, would you rather be back there taking pictures with Ed and his friend?” Harry flashed a grin back at her.

They made their way to a door near the end of the hallway; Harry turned the knob and yanked Taylor through the doorway. Once inside, Harry closed the door and searched for a lock. 

“I don’t think there is one,” Taylor said, her gaze fixed on Harry’s hands. 

“It’s a door, it’s gotta have one,” he said exasperated.

He fumbled around some more and finally found a tiny nubbin; he pushed it in and then jiggled the handle. It was locked. 

He turned around and looked at her, suddenly very aware of how alone they were. He took a step towards her; he noticed the subtle trepidation she felt as she took a small step back. Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry. He looked around the room to see where they were. He had wanted so desperately to get her alone with him, but now that he had succeeded, he was unsure of what to do next. He looked back at her; curls were beginning to fall from the pins holding them in place. She had folded her arms across her chest, as if she were protecting herself. Harry took a breath and took another step closer to her, closing the gap between them. This time Taylor didn’t make a move away from him, she stayed rooted where she was. 

He looked into her eyes, what was it about her that made him unable to shake her. They were like magnets, either fighting to get further away from each other one moment, or unable to tear themselves apart the next. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair back into place. It immediately fell back down; Taylor smiled.

“It’s going to be a pain in the ass to take out,” she confessed.

“How many pins have you actually got in there?” Harry asked.

He let his hand drop down to her shoulder and slide down her arm. The words Taylor had been about to speak turned into a breath. He watched her throat as she swallowed.

“Um. I lost count around 75, I blame the pins cutting off circulation to my brain,” she leaned into his touch. 

Harry looked into her eyes and smiled, “You really do look great tonight.”

Taylor bit her lip, “Would you have wanted to talk to me if I went with a different dress?”

Harry’s hand drifted up towards her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her painted lip, “You could have shown up in a rubbish bin and I’d still have found a way to get you alone.”

Taylor’s eyes fluttered close at his words, and he pressed his hand into the back of her neck, guiding her lips to his. Harry stopped short just as he barely felt the skin of Taylor’s lips brush against his. He wound his other hand around her waist, pressing her body against his. He felt her breath hot on his lips and he gripped her tighter. Her hands flew to his chest, grasping at his shirt to stabilize herself. 

“Taylor…” Harry whispered. He didn’t want to be the one to close the space between her lips, he wanted to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. 

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” Taylor whispered before she slammed her lips against Harry’s.


	4. Track 3: Half a Heart Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In June 2015 Harry gets a new tattoo. Two months later, it makes its' debut to the public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this chapter is taking a LOT of liberties. But, after extensive research. I think that this far fetched idea isn't THAT far fetched. I love a good conspiracy theory. :)

“Shit. Shit. SHIT,” she screamed. 

Harry’s eyes drifted open, stinging as the light from the balcony window hit his face. He heard her in the bathroom, running the water in the sink. He rolled over onto his side and looked at the iHome on the bedside table. It’s 6:53AM. He closed his eyes again, the sound of her yells making his head throb. 

“Can you keep it down a bit? One of us might be a bit hung over,” he groaned, rubbing the sides of his head. 

She came storming out of the bathroom in her underwear, her mascara smeared across her eyes, making her look a bit like a raccoon. Her short blonde was sticking out in odd angles, and he’d laugh, if there wasn’t such a look of panic in her eyes. 

“What did you let me do last night?!” she asked. 

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, “What do you mean? You came over, we had drinks, had a few too many. It’s all bit of a blur after that.”

“I know that Harry, I’m talking about this,” she pulled down her waistband a half an inch to reveal an outline of a broken heart on the flesh of her left hip. 

Harry blinked at her, “I dunno how that got there.”

She looked at him, her eyes growing wide.

“Taylor, I swear I don’t! I would remember something like you getting a tattoo,” he said.

“Oh because you remember every night when you’ve got one,” she rolled her eyes.

“As a matter of fact I do,” he said, grinning. 

Taylor let out a huff, picked up a pillow off the floor and chucked it at Harry, hitting him directly at his heart. As soon as the pillow connected with his chest, he let out a gasp of pain. It felt like she stabbed him.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Taylor said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not! It really stung,” his reached up his hand to sooth his skin. When he looked down to his chest, he noticed that it was rather red for just being hit with a pillow.

“Oh no,” he groaned.

“What oh no?” Taylor asked, coming around to look at where Harry was rubbing.

“I think,” he took in a deep breath, “I think I might have gotten a tattoo myself.”

Taylor knelt down on the side of the bed, pushing Harry’s hands out of the way. He watched her as the image registered in her eyes. She lightly traced the outlines of the heart on his chest. She looked down at her hip, then back up at him. The pieces matched.

“No. No. Please tell me that you had that before last night,” she whispered.

Harry leaned back against the pillows, a large sigh escaping his lips, “I’m afraid not.”

She dug her palms onto her face, “But I thought you remembered every tattoo you’ve gotten, Styles?”

Suddenly, the sound of vibrating came from somewhere in the room. Harry felt around on the bed for the source, but couldn’t find anything. The vibrating continued and Taylor made her way to the other side of the bed, bending down on the floor to pick up her phone. She swiped the phone open.

“Hello?” She answered as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Harry closed his eyes again. He really didn’t know how the night progressed into Taylor waking up in his bed with matching tattoos. The light tingling of his skin became a dull throb the more he tried to think about what happened the night before. He couldn’t concentrate on anything besides the muffled sound of Taylor’s voice in his bathroom. After a minute or two, she had turned the faucet on, presumably to stop him from listening in on her conversation. It was a trick she used too often when they spoke on the phone themselves.

Harry flung the covers off himself and grabbed for his briefs on the floor. He heard the sound of the door open. 

“Everything all right?” he asked her, handing her the shirt she wore the night before.

“Yeah, I, uh, just had to call Karlie to tell her I was with her last night,” she whispered, taking the shirt from Harry. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, “Look, Tay—”

She cut him off, “I really don’t want to talk about it. I have to meet my parents and Adam in an hour and I have to figure out—”

Harry muffled her words as he pulled her into his chest. She took a deep breath as he soothed his hands down her back. She clung to him, trying to find purchase on his skin.

“Take a shower here, I’ve got something you can wear. You can change when you get back to your hotel,” he said, pulling away from her to look her in the eyes.

She wasn’t crying. He knew her too well, she wouldn’t do that. 

“Go take a shower, you’ve got plenty of time. I’ll call someone to pick you up.”

 

Once Harry heard the water running in the bathroom, he set to work pulling things out of his closet that he had tucked away months ago. Things he tied to get rid of, but couldn’t. Things he tried to forget happened, but couldn’t. Afterwards, he pulled on the pair of jeans that had been so hastily discarded last night, and grabbed his phone off the bed side table. He pulled open Instagram, looking for a quick distraction. After scrolling a few rounds, he came across it. He looked at the smiling faces of Taylor, her arms wrapped around Calvin’s neck, her friends beaming next to her.

**taylorswift** _Little known fact: Karlie is secretly an unofficial historian/London tour guide. Kind of._

He quickly exited the app, only a few hours after that picture was taken Taylor had show up at his flat unannounced, eyes puffy and red. He reflexively comforted her, in the only way he could. They had never been a pair for words, despite their given professions. 

When Taylor emerged from the bathroom a short while later, she had a towel wrapped around her body. Harry had cleaned the bedroom of the mess from the previous night and laid out clothes for her on the bed. She walked up to him and smiled. 

“You’ve left a few things here over the years, I’ve had them cleaned. Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them,” he said as he watched her pick up a pair of underwear. 

“Little weird that you’ve laundered my underwear,” she said, putting them on. 

Harry stood up, scratching the back of his neck, “Well, I, uh, don’t have any of your clothes. But, I do have this. I figured you could wear that and no one would notice it wasn’t yours.”

He directed her gaze to the shirt lying on the bed. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she reached out to touch the fabric. He watched Taylor pick up the white and blue striped shirt, “I didn’t think you’d remember giving that to me.”

He smiled a crooked grin, “I’d say it was rather similar circumstances you got the first one. Besides, it was my favorite shirt. You don’t forget giving a pretty girl your favorite shirt. It’s also hard to forget when it’s on your album booklet.”

She smiled up at him, her wet hair clinging to her neck, “I guess I am a bit heavy handed in the subtext sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Taylor, the bigger shock was that you didn’t even ask me to star in the video. I’m not going pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings a bit.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted playfully at him, “I thought about it. But I knew that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“You seem to know what I want better than I do myself,” he breathed.

He reached up and ran his fingers through her wet hair; she leaned in to his hand. As his fingers began to play with her hair, he reached up to cup his other hand on her cheek.

“I’m really glad you showed up last night,” he whispered. 

She didn’t say anything in response, just nodded silently. He licked his lips and continued.

“I know it wasn’t the best circumstances that led you to my door, but I’m glad it happened.”

Taylor looked down at her hands, gently playing with the hair on Harry’s navel, “I don’t think it can happen again.”

Harry sighed as he pressed his forehead to hers, “I know.”

Her fingers fluttered to the fresh tattoo on his chest, “I’m happy to be another tattoo you’re going to regret later.”

Harry grabbed her hand and stilled her fingers, her blues eyes bore into his, “I regret 80 percent of my tattoos, but I couldn’t regret his one. It’s the truth.”

He didn’t have to explain to her what that truth was, he knew she knew what he meant. The amount of times they had fallen back towards one another over the years, spoke louder than any words they could have shared. Taylor leaned in and lightly pressed her lips to Harry’s. It was short, sweet, as close to a good-bye as they had come in the past three years. 

“I couldn’t either,” she said. 

 

A few months later, on the North American leg of One Direction’s “On the Road Again Tour,” Harry’s phone was going off the hook. Text messages, e-mails, social media notifications. He hadn’t realized that no one had noticed his tiny heart tattoo yet, and clearly it caused a bigger stir than he thought it would. He hid himself away in Niall’s room, seeking refuge from the calls the hotel management kept putting through to his room. The calls were coming from Modest, so they kept rolling right through the hotel staff’s privacy regulations.

“Just turn the bloody phone off Harold,” Niall groaned. 

Harry ignored the current call coming in on his phone, “You know that’s not an option.”

“It’s basically the same thing that Simon told ya to do anyways. I don’t see how keepin’ your phone on helps you ignore everything like he wants ya to do,” he flicked through the channels on the television.

Niall suddenly dropped the remote on the couch, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “Great. Now I’m sure they’re calling me to figure out where you are.”

Niall opened his phone, a confused look on his face, “Hello? Selena? To what do I owe the pleasure? Yeah, he’s right next to me. Look, I dunno if that’s such a good idea. Things are pretty crazy right now.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and offered it to Harry, “She want’s to talk to you, now.”

Harry let out an audible sigh and grabbed the phone from him, “Hello?”

“Hi Harry.”

He had only spoken to Selena a handful of times, somehow Taylor had managed to keep her best friend from interacting too much with him. He was fairly certain that wasn’t a positive testament to their relationship, whatever that had been. 

“Hi Selena, look, like Niall said, now’s not—”

“I’ll make this quick,” she cut him off on the other end of the line. “I’m not dumb. And neither are a lot of Taylor’s friends.”

Harry’s stomach did a flip at the mention of her name. Selena continued.

“You know, I thought it was a little weird that Taylor, my best friend who hardly gets tipsy enough to drunk text me, would get so drunk one night with Karlie that she wanted to get matching best friend tattoos.”

Harry swallowed hard, “I’m not sure why you’re bringing this up, T—”

“I’m not done. I just think it’s interesting that she would think to do something that so very clearly has you written all over it. Drunken nights spent getting tattoos is one of your band’s favorite past times. And now, I see that you seem to have a tattoo that remarkably fits hers. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Niall mouthed something at him, but he waved him off. Harry stood from the arm of the couch and turned his back to him. 

“Look, I don’t know what she’s told you—,” he started.

“It doesn’t matter what she told me. What matters is that she has a really great thing going for her with Adam right now. I don’t know if you know this, but it took her a long time to put herself back together after you fucked things up with her the first time. I won’t let you mess this relationship up for her now. Not a whole lot of people have seen hers besides Adam and me, and lucky for you, he believes the story she gave him.”

Harry sighed, “To be completely honest, I really don’t think this is any of your business.”

“It’s not, but I wouldn’t be her best friend if I didn’t look out for her. She has done the same for me more times than I could count. And I was too stupid and naïve to listen to her. I thought that if I talked to you, you would know to hold yourself accountable. She clearly has moments of weakness when it comes to you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just put Niall back on the phone.”

Harry turned around to face his friend, curiosity marked all over his face. Harry handed him the phone back. 

“She wants to talk to you.”


	5. Track 4: Hot Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry catches Taylor on 'The Late Show with Stephen Colbert'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for reading! What a bummer this week has been though for Taylor. Thanks to everyone that has read! It's been fun working on this. I apologize for my writing abilities, I hope my story telling ideas make up for it.

“So you’re engaged, that’s correct?” Stephen asked.

Taylor grinned widely, and held up her left hand and tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Why yes I am! I’m engaged to the insanely talented and handsome Calvin Harris.”

The audience applauded at her declaration.

“You two have been engaged for a couple of years now, has a wedding date been set?” he asked.

Taylor sunk back in her armchair, pretending to be a bit sheepish, “Maybe…”

“Oh come on, that’s a normal question to ask, it’d be weird if you said no. Most people don’t get engaged and refuse to set a date. It’s okay to tell America and our millions of viewers that there’s a date in mind, that’s not revealing too much information,” Stephen replied, pressing Taylor to continue.

Taylor held her hands up in mock surrender, “All right, you got me. Yes, my fiancé and I have set a date.”

As the studio audience cheered around her, Taylor beamed up at them. 

“Can you tell us when that will be?” Stephen inquired. 

Taylor put her hands on her hips, “Now I just told you that there’s a set date, now you want to know what that date is?”

Stephen smiled, “How about if I guess a date, you tell me yes or no?”

“Okay, you get one guess,” Taylor said, her eyes dancing.

Stephen pouted, “I was thinking more around three hundred and sixty five.”

Taylor threw her head back and laughed with the audience. 

“Okay, now, in all seriousness before you and your fiancé started dating, you,” Stephen paused briefly, “Let’s say, had an infamous dating life.”

Taylor smiled, flashing her teeth to the audience. She nodded slowly, “You could say that.”

The audience laughed, Stephen continued, “That’s putting it nicely. What was that like for you?”

Taylor tucked her long hair behind her ear, pulling her bangs away from her eyes, “Well, Stephen. I’m not gonna lie, it definitely sucked.”

The audience laughed at her dry response. 

“But I’m fine now! They say you gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince, and I’m just thankful I eventually found mine. I’m so happy all those magazines stopped publishing stories of me hooking up with a new celebrity every other week. Most of the time I was like, ‘I’ve never even met you!’”

“How often were the tabloid headlines accurate?” 

Taylor blushed, “I mean, where there’s smoke there’s fire!” 

The audience laughed again, they were eating out of the palm of her hand. She continued. 

“But no, no, really. Some of the things they printed were true, but some of them were so outlandish. I used to buy some of the ones that really made me laugh, and read the articles. Some of those stories they wrote were pretty juicy!”

Stephen laughed at her response and glanced down at his queue cards, “Well, since you mentioned it, in honor of your impending nuptials, we here at the Late Show wanted to play a little game with you if that’s okay?”

Taylor looked hesitantly to the audience, feigning concern, “Oh god, I don’t know…”

Stephen held his hands up, “Look, I promise it’s won’t get any uglier than this.” He pulled up a magazine cover from under his desk and held it pointed to the camera, “Her bizarre Kennedy family obsession tears family apart!”

Taylor laughed and buried her face in her hands, “Where did you find that?”

Stephen looked directly into the camera, “Oh, I have my ways. What do you say, are you in?”

The audience cheered, encouraging her to take the challenge. Taylor laughed again, “All right. Let’s play.” The studio erupted into applause.

Stephen clapped his hands together, “We’re going to call this, ‘Taylor Swift’s Reverse Dating Game.’ We want to know how well you remember all those tabloid relationships linked to you. Now over here, we have here a string people of hiding behind this wall, some from real relationships, some fake. You’re going to ask them all questions to figure out who each person is. Sound good?”

Taylor smiled and sat forward in her chair, “Oh I’m so ready.”

Stephen smiled at her, “You seem pretty confident. I just want you to know now, we didn’t make this easy for you. This is gonna be as tough as the SATs—”

Taylor cut him off, giggling, “I didn’t take the SATS!” 

“Well then, this is just going to be really really hard,” Stephen replied. The audience laughed.

“Now, I’m going to hand you these questions, and I want you to read them aloud to your suitors.”

Taylor took the cards from Stephen and cleared her throat, “Suitor Number One, where did you and I meet?”

The camera panned to a man sitting on the other side of the sound stage, a tag reading ‘Ed Sheeran’ hanging from his neck. 

“My manager introduced us,” the man replied.

Taylor looked at the audience quizzically, “I’ve met so many people that way!”

Stephen chimed in, “I told you this wasn’t going to be easy!” 

Taylor smiled and flipped to the next card, “Suitor Number Two, what album is there allegedly a song about you on?” She chuckled as she read, putting extra emphasis on the word ‘allegedly’.

“That’s a juicy one,” Stephen said.

The camera then panned to a man sitting next to Suitor Number One, a tag bearing the name, ‘Jake Gyllenhaal’ hanging around his neck.

“Red,” the man answered.

Taylor rubbed her chin thoughtfully, “Red, that album had more than one subject though, but it narrows it down quite a bit.”

Taylor flipped the card in her hands, “Suitor Number Three, did your friends approve of our relationship?”

The camera cut to a man sitting next two Suitor Number Two, the card hanging from his neck read, ‘Harry Styles.’

“Are you sure you’re all right watching this, babe?” Kendall asked, looking over to Harry. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair and readjusted the arm that draped over her shoulders, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Kendall grabbed the remote from the coffee table in front of them, and turned off the television. Harry looked at her after the screen went black.

“What’d you turn it off for?” 

Kendall turned to face him, propping her leg up underneath her, “Because I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

Harry scoffed, “I’m not uncomfortable.” 

Kendall rolled her eyes, “You’ve been uncomfortable, like, since I got the wedding invitation a couple weeks ago. You keep saying you’re fine but I’m not stupid.”

Harry reached out and put his hand on her knee, a gesture he hopped would soothe her, “I am fine. You know I’d talk to you about it if it really was bothering me.”

Kendall tucked her hair behind her ear, “I used to think that, but like, you’ve completely shut down. You’ve barely said anything since you got back.”

Harry sighed, “I’m just drained. You know press tours take a lot out of me.”

Kendall rested her hand on top of Harry’s, “I know, I can see that you’re, like, feeling something, I want to be the person you talk to about it.”

He rubbed circles on her knee with his thumb, “I’m not feeling anything but exhaustion. I promise.”

Kendall smiled softly and leaned in to Harry, pressing her lips lightly to his. She seemed satisfied with his response, for now. She pulled back and stood up from the couch. 

“Where are you going?” he asked. 

“I’m going home, I have to get up for a shoot early in the morning, and if I stay here I know I won’t get any sleep.” She smiled down at him and leaned in for another quick kiss. 

“Text me when you get home?” 

She grabbed her phone and car keys off the coffee table, “Yeah.” 

 

Harry waited and listened for the sound of Kendall’s car starting and pulling from his driveway. He hadn’t been lying to her when he told her he wasn’t feeling anything other than exhaustion. However, the implication that he was exhausted from his month and a half of travelling doing press for his most recent film was. He was really exhausted by this seemingly never-ending cycle he was stuck in with Taylor. 

He hadn’t spoken to her since that time two years ago on the telephone. The night she called him in the dead of night as her new fiancé slept somewhere in her hotel alone. He couldn’t bring himself then to tell her how he really felt about her getting engaged, making her relationship with Adam permanent. He wanted so badly to give her a reason to change her mind, to take back her answer, but all he could think about was the smile plastered on her face in the social media announcement. Harry buried his face in his hands, rubbing them against his eyes.

It was silly really, to be so infatuated with her still. That’s all it was, he was 18 when they met, hooked up. He equated it to what people call “High School Sweethearts,” there’s always a soft spot in your heart for them. But if that was a soft spot, why did it only seem to grow bigger as the years went on? The more he saw of her, her interviews, listened to her albums, the more he cared for her. She was intelligent, smart, and capable; no one navigated the industry like her, in such an intimate and inclusive way. He admired her for the personality she had cultivated for the world to see. And how she left her more endearing qualities, her vulnerability, for those special enough to know her that closely. 

That’s not to say that he didn’t care about Kendall, he did. They had grown up together, been able to find support in each other when there was no one else they felt like they could talk to. But what he felt for Kendall wasn’t all consuming. It didn’t make him ill with worry, or anxiety, he didn’t flinch whenever her name was brought up. He felt safe with Kendall, knew exactly where she stood with him. There were no surprises. Was the security he felt with her worth sacrificing the excitement? Was he just drawn to Taylor because she was unattainable, and he enjoyed the torture of pining after someone who would never relent?

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed, knowing he was about to do something he’d probably regret instantly.

 

“Name?” The security guard asked him as Harry pulled up on the familiar drive.

“Uh. Harry,” he said, “Styles.”

The guard looked down at his iPad, undoubtedly scrolling through names, “You’re not on the list.”

“Can you call up to house? It’s kind of urgent.”

“You do realize it’s two in the morning right? That people tend to be asleep at this time of night?”

Harry nodded his head, “And that should tell you how urgent it is.”

The guard pursed his lips stared at Harry for a minute, scrutinizing him. He grabbed the phone off the receiver and hit a button.

“Hi, it’s Andy. Miss, there’s a Harry Styles,” the guard looked pointedly at Harry, “Here to see you. Is it okay to send him up to the property?”

The guard stared at Harry as he waited for a response, never taking his eyes off him. He hung up the phone without a word.

“You’re clear to go in Mr. Styles,” he said, almost as if he was disappointed.

Harry smiled, relief flooding through him, “Thanks a lot Andy.”

Harry drove up the drive to the house, his headlights beaming into the windows as he came up to the car port. Putting the car in park, he took a deep breath. All the words he had rehearsed on the way over had escaped his mind, his thoughts now completely blank. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out.

**Kendall Jenner**  
_iMessage_

_Home. Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow night <3_

He quickly typed a response, the glow of the screen illuminating his face.

_Sweet dreams_

Harry tucked his phone back into his pocket and stepped out of the car. He jingled his keys in his hands all the way to the door, his nerves apparent. Just as he lifted his hand to knock on the door, it slowly swung open. Taylor held the door open wide enough so that only her head peaked through the crack.

“What are you doing here Harry?” She said, he tone short.

“I just—is this a bad time?” He stammered. 

She leaned her head against the door frame, “It’s two in the morning and I just got off a plane from New York. You tell me.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his stomach twisting in knots, “Yeah, I, uh, figured you might have just gotten back, if you were here at all.”

“Harry, what are you doing here?” She repeated. 

“Look, can I come in? I just want to talk to you really quick and then I’ll leave, promise,” he looked her directly in the eye, hoping that would make her back down.

She walked the door open, creating room for Harry to pass through. After closing the door behind him, she lead him to the kitchen, perching herself on the marbled island. 

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “I, uh, caught your Late Show segment.”

Taylor nodded, “So that’s why you’re here then.”

Harry took a step towards her, but hesitated and took a step back. “Not entirely.”

Taylor turned around, grabbing a glass from her cupboard. She filled it from the tap at her sink and handed it to Harry.

“Thanks,” he whispered, accepting the glass.

“So why else are you here?”

Harry put the glass down on the counter, “I’m here to tell you to not marry Adam.”

Harry watched her face immediately change, her eyes narrow to slits.

“And do what Harry, marry you instead?” There was a biting humor to her tone. 

“No, I mean, yes, but no. Not now. Just hear me out, all right?”

Taylor folded her arms across her chest, closing herself off to him.

“Look, I’ve been a wreck since Kendall got the invitation to the—” his voice trailed off.

“To my wedding,” Taylor finished for him. 

She was obviously not receptive to whatever Harry could possibly say to her at this moment. This wasn’t going at all how he planned. He silently kicked himself for thinking that she would just fall into his arms at his declarations; agree with whatever sentiments he offered her.

“Uh, yeah. And I just can’t get you out of my head. I know we haven’t spoken in a while, and I know that’s for a reason. But, don’t you think we never really even got a chance to see what we could have been?”

He eyed Taylor, watching her reaction. She swallowed slowly before speaking, “And who do you think is at fault for that?” 

The air escaped Harry’s lungs, he knew, he knew it was his fault. 

“It was mine.”

Taylor nodded slowly, “Exactly. You’re just saying this all now because I’m not yours. You can’t stand that Adam and I are happy, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“You’re right! I can’t! Because you should be spending it with me,” he retorted.

Taylor laughed, actually laughed at him, “Look at yourself Harry! It’s two in the morning, you have a girlfriend asleep in Calabasas, and you’re here, begging the girl you dated for three months when you were eighteen to not marry the man she has been with for five years.”

“Don’t do that, don’t reduce our relationship down to three months. You know that’s not true,” he snapped.

“When Adam and I broke up in 2016, where were you? If this has been what you wanted the whole time, where were you four years ago? When I was single, when you were single. Where the hell were you?” She spat.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, “I, uh—”

She cut him off, “I’ll tell you where you were, you were no where to be found, like always. Any time, any time that I have actually wanted you, wanted to try this, for real, you’ve disappeared.” 

"It's not like I had much of a chance there Taylor, you were single for what, two weeks before you were photographed with that superhero bloke?" He knew how to push her buttons, get her to react. 

Taylor braced her hands on the counter behind her, as if restraining herself, "You've got to be kidding me."

Harry swallowed hard, knowing what to do to get her to break, "I'm just genuinely asking where you think I might have had time to tell you how I felt before. You broke up with Adam. I didn't want to bombard you the minute you were single, thinking you needed time to be alone. I wanted to respect your space. But you were with Tom not even a week and a half later, where was I supposed to find time to tell you I still had feelings for you?" 

Taylor shut her mouth, staring straight at him.

"And I figured it was pretty apparent that I still had feelings for you. I don't commonly hook up with women who are in relationships. I was surprised to know that I wasn't the only man you sought out during your first year with Adam."

"Don't. You know nothing about what happened between Adam and I. Why Tom and I happened," anger flashed in Taylor's eyes.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, "I'm just saying, you're not the doe-eyed innocent girl the media makes you out to be. Yeah, I fucked up a lot when it comes to you, but you're not exactly guilt free here either. You can't seriously be yelling at me for using this moment, right now to tell you how I felt. There hasn't been a moment where I could have. So here I am now, making one. I want to make this work. I know I’ve fucked it all up—”

She cut him off again, “Exactly! You fucked it up. The sneaking around, the secret calls and texts, they were fun, really fun. But that’s not what a relationship is built on. It’s built on trust and understanding, and hard work. Do you think that mine and Adam’s relationship has come easy? It hasn’t. Especially since those mistakes I made with Tom. But we realized that we wanted to continue working at it, together, as a team. You and I have never had that, we’ve never been on the same page. You only want me when you can’t have me, and I—” her voice broke a little. 

“I’ve always wanted you. But I know that I can’t. I can’t have you, not how I really want you. Because as soon as you’ve caught me, you’ll lose interest. Just like you always do.”

Harry reached out for her, trying to hold her, but Taylor swatted his hands away. 

“Taylor you know that’s not true,” he whispered. 

“Isn’t it?” She looked at him, her blue eyes glazing with tears. He had never seen her cry before. 

“Why don’t you want me to marry Adam, Harry?” She whispered.

He looked at her, arms still crossed over her chest, “Because you should be with me instead.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “But **why**? Because isn’t a reason.”

Harry took a deep breath, “Because, I understand you. You’re smart, intelligent, feisty as hell, a little catty. You never have to put on an act when you’re with me, and I know you know that too. You make me want to be a better artist, a better person. I’m never as good as when you’re there.”

Taylor looked down at her feet, swiping at an imaginary scuff in the tile. Harry walked over to her, putting his hands on her hips, he purposely dug his thumb into the flesh of her left hip, knowing what was there.

“I know you know that too. This connection we have, it doesn’t just happen to everyone. We always come back to each other, in good and bad, somehow a night or a phone call with one another is better than nothing at all. That’s something. I want to figure out where we could go. Do this proper.”

Taylor rested her hands on his chest, her feather light touch sent goose bumps down Harry’s spine. 

“Adam makes me feel safe, I don’t go to bed at night worried I’ll never hear from him again, there are no surprises.”

Harry smiled to himself at the irony.

“And that security is more important to you than the excitement,” he whispered.

Taylor kept her head down at her feet, but nodded slowly, “Yes. It is.”

“But that’s not who you are, Taylor, it’s not. You won’t be content with a life of domesticity. You love the adventure, the thrill of it all,” he jerked her hips, forcing her to look up at him. 

She pushed at his chest, making him to let go of her, “It’s not your decision to make Harry!” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake—” Harry exclaimed.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

Harry stared at her, unsure of what to do.

Taylor swallowed hard, “Do you love me?” 

Harry looked at her, her eyes were imploring, begging for him to say the right thing. Say what he hadn’t said to her all these years. But as he opened his mouth to say it, all that came out was hot air.


	6. Track 5: So Cliche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry bears witness to Taylor's marriage.

Harry heard her laughter before he saw her. It was strange to him that after all the years that had put distance between them, he could still pick her laughter out of the crowd. He searched for her through the clusters of people, completely intoxicated by the sound. When he found her, she sat in a wooden chair, guitar perched on her leg. He watched her strum the chords in harmony with Ed, their fingers moving effortlessly in unison. She looked different, settled, natural. He could tell that she felt relaxed with Ed and his friends, something he felt too. There was no need to put on a show, she could just be who she was. She tucked her falling hair from out of her face and behind her ear, and quickly fell back into time with Ed’s chords. As he began to sing, she softly hummed. 

Harry took in a deep breath, it had been a very long time since he had seen Taylor. After she and Calvin were married, she had quickly fallen out of view from the public eye. She had turned in her stadium tours for more intimate settings and venues. Harry had surprised at how easily Taylor had given up the limelight, for someone who fed off the buzz of arenas filled to capacity, she didn’t put up much of a fight. There were rumors, of course, that Calvin felt threatened by Taylor’s success, the boyfriend scandals that she had become notorious for, that caused her and Calvin to break up. Supposedly, part of their pre-nuptial agreement was her taking a step back from her career. The fact that she had even agreed to it only solidified to Harry how deeply committed Taylor was to her marriage to Calvin. 

Harry’s attention drifted back to the pair ahead of him, they worked together. While Taylor was capable taking on any style, there was no denying that Taylor’s strength lie within the singer-songwriter genre, and Ed brought out that greatness in her. The other guests burst into applause, and Harry’s hands instinctively matched their claps. Ed stood up, and gestured towards Taylor, causing her to blush, burying her face into her shoulder. As the crowd quieted down, Harry felt his feet carrying him towards her, helpless to stop himself.

“New song?” 

She looked up at him from her seat, blue eyes big with surprise, “Styles? I didn’t know you were going to be here!” 

Harry smiled, “It was a last minute thing, I didn’t think I’d be in town.”

Taylor gestured to the seat Ed had just vacated, “Sit.”

Harry nodded, pulling the chair a little closer to Taylor, “You two sounded great.”

Taylor ran a hand through her hair, “Thanks. We’ve just been working on a few songs for my new album, trying out a couple of sounds. I’m not sure what direction I want to go in yet.”

Harry rested his elbows on his knees, leaning into her, “I’d say you’re on the right track. You and Ed have always been a good match.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, “Ed’s a good match with anyone. I loved the song he put together for your last album.”

Harry felt his stomach clench in her admission, “You listened to that?” 

Taylor’s eyes met his, “Of course I did.”

Harry held her gaze a beat longer, then dropped his stare down to his hands, twirling the ring on his right index finger, “So when is this album dropping?”

“Well, I’m hoping to have it done in the next couple months, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to meet that deadline,” Taylor bent down to pull her guitar case closer to her.

Harry flicked his eyes back up to her, “Why’s that?”

As she pulled her guitar from her lap, Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to her midsection. His eyes grew wide. When Taylor looked back up at Harry, her guitar safely in its case, she smiled.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed,” she teased.

Harry swallowed, “You’re pregnant?”

She nodded, her hand drifting to her belly, “I am. We’ve been trying to keep it quiet though, for the obvious reasons.”

Harry nodded, suddenly finding it hard to process the words she was saying, “How far along are you?” 

“About five months. Ideally I’d like to have the album done by the time she comes—”

Harry cut her off, “It’s a girl?”

“We don’t know yet, actually, but I have a feeling it is. Adam is, naturally, convinced it’s a boy,” she replied.

Harry took a look at her, she looked happy, content, excited, “You’re going to be a great mum.” 

Taylor smiled, “Thank you Harry. That means a lot.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of them, Harry was unsure of what to say next to her. 

“So how’s the movie coming along? Selena says you’re really excited about this one,” Taylor said, breaking the tension.

“Selena?”

Taylor nodded, “Selena, via Niall. I figured you’d have known that he talks about you all the time.”

Harry laughed, “I thought he just talked about all of us that way.”

“Oh he does, whenever they come over for dinner I’m subjected to a good thirty minutes of looking through pictures of Freddie, or listening to a bridge from Liam. He’s so proud of you guys. Still.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “Niall’s been a good man to have around over the years. I don’t think we’d all still be friends if it weren’t for him.”

Taylor nodded, “I know the feeling, it’s hard keeping a group together as you all grow separately from each other.” There was a sad look in her eyes that Harry couldn’t pin down. 

“But tell me about this movie.”

She punctuated her demand by grabbing Harry’s knee; it was such an innocent touch, purely reflexive, not indicative of Taylor’s feelings, but it seared Harry’s skin. He was embarrassed; it had been years since he had even thought of Taylor at all, let alone in a romantic way. She was the furthest thing from attainable, married and very pregnant. Her words from years ago echoed in his head _As soon as you’ve caught me, you’ll lose interest. Just like you always do._

Harry shook himself from his thoughts, “Well, it’s all very hush hush right now, as I’m sure you can understand.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, “Styles, you just got a preview of my new album, I think it’s only fair that you give me a preview of your new movie in return. This is how friendships work.”

The word jolted Harry, throughout all the years of sneaking around, stolen moments, friendship was never a word exchanged between the two of them. They had been lovers, acquaintances, but was there ever that solid foundation of friendship? Thinking about it now, it seemed to him that was the glaring issue between the two of them. Despite all the shit they had gone through together, they were really never friends. When he had a problem, or an issue, Taylor was never the first person he reached out to. She had tried, but Harry’s inability to confide in Taylor drew her away. It’s funny how clearly it all came to him now. Maybe now, all these years later, he could finally give her what he should have from the start, a friendship. 

“Okay, okay, but you’ve gotta take this to your grave. I’m only telling you, so if I read about this on TMZ later, I know who I’m coming after.”

Her laughter rang in his ears, “Your secret is safe with me. I promise.”

 

Harry stood at his kitchen counter, holding a mailing envelope addressed to him. 

“When did this come in?”

His assistant shrugged, “Dunno, this was the first time I checked the mail this week. So sometime I guess between last Friday and now?”

The return address in the corner only read, “Wiles.” Taylor. It’s not that he was surprised to hear from her, they had exchanged texts and e-mails since reconnecting months ago, Harry completely focused on establishing a friendship with her, but he hadn’t done as well as he hoped. Allowing Taylor back into his world, even in such a small way proved difficult. Now that he was able to be in the public eye again, comfortable with who he is as a solo act, Taylor had removed herself from the world. It wasn’t as if he could bump into her at events or parties, the only events Taylor would be seen at are intimate shows for her friends, with even smaller guest lists. He was embarrassed at how good it felt to hold something in his hands from her to feel as if they weren’t on different planets after all. 

“Just open it, what’s the worst that could be in there?” his assistant prodded.

Harry ripped open the mailer, and pulled out the contents. Inside was a piece of card stock with a baby’s face printed on it. A birth announcement. Despite being completely aware of the circumstances of Taylor’s life, there was a small pull in the pit of his stomach. A flinch. The baby was cute, scrunchy, with piercing blue eyes. He didn’t expect anything less. 

He flipped the card over and read the personalized note on the back. 

_Styles,  
I can’t say how much your memes and buzzfeed links have meant to me these past few months. They provided a welcome distraction from this one stomping on my bladder 24/7. I hope this articulates what I can’t find the words for sometimes. Still haven’t decided on a release date, but if I see this on TMZ later, I’ll know who to come after._

_Yours,  
Taylor_

Harry looked at the flash drive he pulled out of the envelope along with the card. He took a deep breath, twirling the drive in between his fingers. He looked back down at the card stock in his hand, the baby’s face staring back at him. 

_Taylor and Adam Wiles are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, Fenella Alison Wiles_

Harry tossed the card on the counter before reading the rest of the announcement. His assistant peered over his shoulder and she grabbed a jug of green juice from the fridge.

“She had her baby?” she asked.

He nodded curtly. She reached across his arm to snatch the announcement. Her eyes looked up at Harry.

“Do you think she’s cute?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Of course I do.”

His assistant stared at the picture, “Don’t you worry she’s gonna look like her dad though? He didn’t used to be cute.”

Harry grabbed the card out of her hands, “This isn’t what I’m paying you for.”

He slipped the flash drive into his pocket, grabbing his phone off of the counter. 

“I’ll be in the studio if you need anything.”

As Harry sat down at his sound board, he plugged in the flash drive. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. As the sound began to pour in from the speakers, he felt the notes wash over him. The acoustic guitar led the song, as a soft percussion flooded in. Slowly came in woodwind instruments; maybe a clarinet? The sound was unlike anything he had heard Taylor produce. It was raw, emotional, vulnerable. 

He pulled out his phone, wanting to write to her right away, but he hesitated. She also sent a birth announcement with the drive. A birth announcement for her new baby girl. A baby girl she had welcomed into the world with her husband. He was delusional to think that there was any room in that equation for a friendship with himself, a nineteen year old from a million years ago. 

 

Harry drummed his fingers against his steering wheel. There were a lot of upsides to living life in Los Angeles, the weather, the beaches, the laid back way of life. Sitting in traffic for hours on end was not one of them. As he watched the cars across the median buzzing down the highway, his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize. He knew better than to answer a call from an unknown number. He hit ignore and tossed it back into the cup holder. His phone rang again, again with a number he did not recognize.

“This is Harry,” he said.

“You used to be a bit more liberal in answering calls from unrecognized numbers. I remember using Martha’s and Karlie’s phones just to see if you’d answer,” she breathed. 

“Taylor?” 

“I’ve gotta confess, I’m not going to pretend like it didn’t really hurt my feelings that I never heard back from you after sending that flash drive,” she said, completely ignoring Harry’s confusion. 

The cars in front of Harry had begun to move, and he eased on his gas pedal. His eyes flickered to his rearview mirror.

“I knew you had a lot going on in your life. When you sent it.”

She paused. “I’m always going to have a lot going on in my life, Harry.” 

Her voice was low, almost flirtatious. 

Harry turned on his blinker, attempting to move into the next lane, “Then I’m happy you were able to find the time to follow up. Two years later.”

He could almost feel her smile through the receiver, “You can make it up to me.”

Harry grinned as he pulled into the next lane, “I’ll do that the next time you’re in town. Splitting your time between the UK and LA is hard. I hear.”

The sound of static filled the line as he waited for her to respond, “I’m free tonight.”

There was no hestitation at the next word to come out of his mouth, “Where?”

She breathed lightly into the phone, “Your place. 8 o’clock.”

“I’ll see you—” The line went dead before he could finish his sentence. 

 

“Would you like something to drink?” Harry asked, opening his refrigerator. 

Taylor sat across from him at the island, resting her chin on her hand.

“What do you have?” she asked.

Harry scanned the contents of his fridge, pushing bottles of juice aside to find something more enjoyable than blended kale. 

“Uh, not a whole lot,” he said, closing the door and opening the freezer.

He pulled out a bottle of tequila, “Looks like I have this, or green juice.”

Taylor scrunched her nose, “Wine?” 

Harry laughed, “My wine cellar is under renovation at the moment.”

He pour them each a glass of tequila, dropping in a few ice cubes to cut the harshness of the alcohol. Lifting his glass to hers, Harry met her eyes, 

“Cheers,” he tapped his glass against hers.

Taylor smiled above the rim of her glass as she downed the drink in on swallow. She brought the glass down hard against the counter. Harry poured more tequila into her glass. 

“Aren’t we a little old for shots?”

“I’m too old for shots. However, you, a spry twenty-nine year old, are just young enough to still be taking them. You’re terrible influence on me, really Styles.”

Harry rolled the glass in his hands before throwing back the contents, “Well, if I’m such a terrible influence, might as well have another round.”

As Taylor drank her second glass, Harry refilled his. 

“You know I won’t be making a move on you tonight, right?”

Taylor caught his eye as she swallowed, “Just drink.”

Harry lifted his glass to his lips, his eyes fixed on Taylor’s face. She was tense, angry even. He knew it wasn’t directed at him, there would be no reason for it to be. Suddenly, everything fell into place. As the tequila warmed his body, he smiled at her. 

“Adam cheated on you.”

Her eyes met him, and instead of the sadness he was expecting to see, all he saw was anger. Her blue eyes were clear, fire ignited behind them. He poured her another drink, she quickly swallowed it.

“How long?” 

“Since Ella was born. The nanny. So cliché.”

Harry threw back another shot himself, pouring another for Taylor. As she raised the glass to her lips, Harry finally noticed that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her without it, granted, he didn’t see her very often. The light band that remained on her ring finger affected him strangely. It was if she were branded. His thoughts drifted.

“Did you get the tattoo removed?” 

She lowered her drink to the counter, and stood up. Her eyes locked with his as her hands fluttered to the zipper on the side of her skirt. Harry unconsciously held his breath as she pulled it down. The skirt pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of it, towards Harry.

“Have a look,” she whispered. 

Harry swallowed hard as Taylor moved in on him, “Taylor.”

Taylor grabbed his hand and used it to pull down her waistband slightly. Feeling her skin on his fingers blurred his vision. Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers trembled over each one, undoing them slowly. As she reached the middle of his shirt, he felt her fingers brush against his skin, pulling back the fabric of his shirt. She instinctively pressed her fingertips to the ink marring his skin. When Harry felt Taylor’s lips press against his chest, he grabbed on to her hips. His right thumb dug deeply where he knew her tattoo was. He spun them around, pushing her against the island. 

“All right, Swift, let’s have a look, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! It was hard to find an angle that worked with all the Hiddleswift Drama this summer. Hopefully it won't take too long to get the next chapter out. Thanks for your patience!


End file.
